


dream big

by caelam (Tennciel)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, what's up with me and cheesy aus lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennciel/pseuds/caelam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a concert pianist ends up stuck in a ex-highschool rock band trying to make it in the world, and Hinata Shouyou thinks that the way things sort themselves out can be really, really weird.</p>
<p>(Sometimes, it's less about living big, and more about dreaming it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	dream big

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of doing my chemistry homework
> 
> it takes kageyama forever to show up but i promise HE'S HERE
> 
> i feel like the writing quality is terrible in the beginning but it gets better?? i think?? i should not ever be allowed to have an opinion on my own writing because i never know what i think
> 
> (also i try really hard to avoid pronouns for kenma in general so if it seems like i'm repeating the word kenma a lot, that's why lmao)

He's sixteen when they have the bright idea of setting the wish tree on fire— in his defense, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, three quarters in to the next July morning with six miles of empty road and a box of matches in his left hand. It was the kind of local legend that everybody did but no one really believed—"visiting the wish tree" was protocol that came with the territory. The idea was to write your wish, your dreams, your whatever onto a slip of paper and tie it to the branches of the tree at night, and then bam, holy shit, your wish comes true. Hinata and his band always went the night before a gig, maybe not even at this point for good luck, but just because it was something they did.

He doesn't remember who had the idea, but something about the tree that night, deader than a doornail and covered head to toe in scraps of paper, looked really—flammable. And then Noya is already in the back of the truck grabbing more matches and Tanaka is laughing the kind of laugh that's grating and too loud and Suga looks resigned to his fate and Hinata is sure that this moment has never been more perfect. He drives the truck right up next to the tree, buckling out the front seat window and onto the top; Noya and Tanaka clamber up next to him with shit-eating grins and sweaty hands and the kind of adrenaline rush in the air that you can only get from being a teenager and doing something you know you're not supposed to do. It's Noya who lights the first match, flickering and unsteady in the humid air, and if Hinata remembers anything from his high school band days, it's this— being sweaty and confused and happier than hell, one stupid match in a dark dark sky, a group knit together with a beat up pickup truck, two guitars, and not a penny to their name.

"Dream big," Noya says, and he drops the match.

Every wish, every dream, every whatever—from them, from their classmates, from people they've never met and never will—they all go up in flames.

.

For most people, it's hard to pinpoint the specific moment the rest of their lives began. But Hinata remembers his exactly—seven years old, the back corner of his dad's office. His mother hadn't touched it since his father died, and Hinata, though he had been curious, never went in. But now his mom was busy with his younger sister, and with no one watching him, curiosity won out.

The room was covered in a fine layer of dust, and surprisingly, consisted mostly of boxes. Hinata had forgotten they had just moved right before the car wreck happened. He felt strange, like he was encroaching on something sacred, but his mom didn't want to talk about it and he knew next to nothing about his father. He steeled himself, and peeled open the box nearest to him.

Gross. It was a bunch of old books.

The next box was not much better (was that _paperwork_?) and the next was a box of finely pressed ties—so far, all he'd discovered about his father was that he was fairly dedicated to being boring and probably on the cover of Stereotypical Office Dad Weekly magazine.

He practically stumbled into the next box; it was small, and already open, meaning his dad had started unpacking it before he died. He peered in, and (to his surprise) it was full of CDs, of all things. He began to rifle through them, coughing at the dust that puffed up into the air anytime he began a new stack. Then—he paused.

There were about four or five consecutive albums all by the same band— _Small Giant_ , it read— and it's the first time Hinata had seen that kind of repetition. Small Giant must have been pretty important to his dad, he decided, and he's not sure what hit him then— but he figured he could learn more about his dad through his favorite music than by analyzing his ties. He quietly took all five albums and slid them under his shirt, slinking out of the office and shutting the door before his mother could have noticed he even went in there.

It's upstairs a few minutes later, when Hinata pops the first album into his tiny little record player and hits the _play_ button, that the rest of his life clicks into place.

.

Hinata meets Kenma in fifth grade. Kenma was small— not just in stature but practically in aura—the type of kid with no presence, always silent, always watching. Hinata gets intrigued when he first notices Kenma's frequent use of headphones, and the fact that he might have encountered someone else who loves and feels music like he does sparks him into approaching Kenma as soon as he has the opportunity. (Hinata, unfortunately, has never been good at telling when's the right time to speak, and he decides the next "opportunity" is right in the middle of class, standing up out of seat and loudly asking, "Hey, Kenma, what type of music are you listening to?". The teacher has to ask him to sit down, and Kenma looks mortified at all the attention, and for a split second Hinata worries Kenma won't talk to him at all after this— but thankfully, Kenma still comes to him after class, showing him a playlist of what they've been listening to that day, and Hinata has never felt happier.)

Kenma is a violinist, he learns, but is more interested in composing music.

"Could you write stuff for a rock band?" Hinata wonders with wide eyes, ideas already flying into his brain faster than he can blink.

Kenma mulls it over for a minute and then nods. Hinata grins and jumps straight up into the air (already, he feels so much closer to his goal.)

.

Noya and Tanaka come to him themselves. The winter of his last year of junior high, he plasters "Rock Band Members Wanted" posters practically all over the school. Most of the posters are sleek and well designed, courtesy of Kenma using some computer program to make them. They do, admittedly, look much better than Hinata's hand-drawn posters— he had tried to draw a group of people rocking out to entice others to come, but it ended up looking more like a group of transcendental lumps rotating in a circle with "rock band" written on top. Hinata hopes the point still gets across.

When the day written on the poster arrives, Hinata pukes three times.

"They're not going to come, Kenma," he moans. "Or they're going to come and they're going to be like, look at this tiny scrub, and they're going to beat me up."

"Just beat them up first," Kenma mutters, fiddling with some music composition program on their phone.

"Holy shit," Hinata says, throwing his head back, "I'm going to have to beat them up and then I'm going to go to prison. Do you hear footsteps? I hear footsteps. I bet it's the police. They're already after me."

Kenma opens their mouth to retort but is cut off by the door slamming open, the shadows of two figures walking into the club room. Kenma can practically hear Hinata's intestinals revolting.

Hinata takes one look at the guy on the left, with the terrifying murderous expression on his face, and decides that this will be the day he dies. He's at least going down with some dignity.

He snaps his arms into defense formation.

"You wanna fight me?" he breaks out, but it loses it's effect due to the small shaky quality of his voice.

There's a split moment of silence, then—  
the smaller, less threatening kid on the right bursts out laughing.

"I like him, Ryuu," Right wheezes, wiping his eyes. "I think he passed the test."

"Hell yeah he did," snorts Left between boisterous laughs, leaning over with hands on his knees. Hinata doesn't really know what to think.

"You—" Right says, still chuckling, "you're the kid looking for band members, right?"

Hinata wants to respond, he really does—but he's certain his brain must have short circuited, or something, because his lips won't move and he still feels awfully pukey.

"That's right," Kenma cuts in, evenly, and Hinata is not for the first time endlessly grateful for Kenma Kozume in his life.

Right dramatically swings an arm back to point to himself.

"I'm Nishinoya Yuu, and I'm the best damn bassist this side of Miyagi has ever seen." (Hinata thinks he hears a quiet snort from Left and a muttered " _only_ this side", to which Right—Nishinoya, he reminds himself—elbows him.)

"And I," Left grins, equally parts terrifying and kind of embarrassing, "am Tanaka Ryunosuke, drummer extraordinaire."

"I— am." Hinata begins, like the eloquent god he is.

"That's Shouyou, lead guitarist," Kenma says, "and I'm Kenma, composer and manager."

Both Noya and Tanaka seem to droop slightly ("I wanted a female manager," Noya mutters), but they're over it in a second.

"You're a guitarist? You any good, kid?" Noya grins, and Hinata nods fervently and runs to go pull his guitar out of the case. He doesn't even make it, though; Tanaka sees the large sticker on the front of his case and gasps.

"You're a fan of Small Giant?" Tanaka asks, mouth slightly open, and immediately, all of Hinata's nerves, his temporary quietness, his unsettling intimidation— it just goes away.

"Hell yeah I am!" Hinata says, bounding up to him with eyes shining. "Are you?!"

Tanaka snorts.

"Why wouldn't I be a fan of the best goddamn band this country has seen in the last half-century," he says with a grin, raising his arm to reveal a Small Giant rubber bracelet around his wrist.

And Hinata thinks this is going to be the beginning of something great.

.

Unfortunately for the four of them, they seem to have had a major misunderstanding. Noya and Tanaka had come into the band thinking Hinata was the lead guitarist and singer, and just needed someone to back him up. Hinata and Kenma, on the other hand, had just assumed that at least one of the people who joined their band due to the posters would be able to sing. It takes about fifty minutes of practice and many failed and earsplitting attempts for them to come to the conclusion that collectively, their singing voices are equivalent to small ducks being slowly lit on fire.

"We can't just—not have a singer," Noya complains, leaning back against his bass case. "Unless we want to be one of those experimental post-rock groups, but I'm not about that."

"Me neither," Hinata admits— he and Kenma had actually been working for a long time on lyrics, and some of them were actually pretty good. "But where do we go to find a singer? The choir?"

Tanaka wrinkles his nose.

"Ew, no— we don't need, like, prissy boy opera singers in our band."

"We don't have anywhere else to start, though," Kenma interjects quietly.

"That's true," says Noya, sighing. "So, then—tomorrow, let's go hit up the high school choir. You ever been to the high school side of the school, rookie?" he asks Hinata with a grin.

Hinata had, strangely enough, not been to the high school side of their joint junior high-high school campus, despite most of his friends being upperclassman (even Kenma was, now, because they skipped their second year of junior high— totally unfair.) And Hinata was well aware that both Noya and Tanaka lived and thrived off the fact that they were older than him, so he gives them a smile and a little head tilt ("No, I haven't, but you high schoolers will show me around, right?") —Both Tanaka and Nishinoya scream.

 

They slink into the choir practice the next day mostly unnoticed at first. The choir is having rehearsal for a performance, so they're in uniform— all black, typical Karasuno fashion— some wearing pleated pressed dresses and others wearing ironed-down buttonup shirts. Honestly, the clothing would have been fine if it wasn't so—shapeless.

"They look like nuns," Tanaka hisses. Noya elbows him.

Someone at the front turns around and sees their ragtag group, then frowns and begins to head toward them. He has an aura of leadership, and when Tanaka hisses _Fuck it's the Reverend_ both Hinata and Noya elbow him, this time.

"Can I help you?" he asks, and he seems friendly enough, but there's a crease of confusion in his brow and an underlying hard edge in all the words he speaks. Hinata finally notices a name written on the front of his shirt—Daichi.

"Ah—Uh—We didn't mean to intrude, Father Daichi," Hinata stutters, before he can stop himself, and Noya elbows him so hard this time that he literally keels over. (Tanaka snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _karma_.)  
"I mean," he wheezes while bent to his knees,"we just wanted to watch practice. And hear you. Like, singing."

Daichi raises an eyebrow (he probably thinks they're all out of their minds) and shrugs.

"That's fine," he says, "it is an open practice, I suppose. Just go sit over there."

They nod and bow thank you before scuttling over to where Daichi told them to sit. Kenma gives them all a look that suggests they'd rather not be associated with the group.

"Suga, we're doing your solo first," Daichi calls loudly from the front again.

"Okay," answers a soft voice and damn, it's no surprise that kid was in choir—even his speaking voice was melodic. A pale, ashy grey-blonde looking kid makes his way to the front and smooths down his button up. Hinata is instantly pulled in and at attention—and one glance at his bandmates next to him suggests they're the same.

Then the kid opens his mouth, and it's like angels themselves smiled down on them. Hinata thinks he sees a halo.

"That's him," Hinata says, eyes wide and breathless. "That's gotta be our singer for the band."

"You sure, Shouyou?" Kenma asks, leveling their gaze with him. "Don't get me wrong, he's fantastic— but he doesn't really seem... suited for the types of songs we have."

"No, he can do anything," Hinata affirms, and he's never been more sure in his life. This kid's voice is like—like liquid gold, or something— it'll meld perfectly with the band's sound; he knows it.

Noya and Tanaka both nod fervently.

"I think so too," Noya says. "Let's talk to him after practice."

"Talking to him" turns out to mean "boweling him over"; they all rush at him at once when he comes out of the choir room and Hinata slams directly into him and Tanaka accidentally knees him in the face. (The poor boy falls to the ground with a resound squak.)

"....I'm sorry. They mean well," Kenma says, offering a hand to help him up from the heap of bodies on the floor, and Hinata is once again endlessly thankful for Kozume Kenma.

The boy offers a halfhearted smile and accepts Kenma's outstretched offering.

"At least you're a lively bunch," he says, pulling himself up and grinning. "It's nice to see that."

(A real life angel, Hinata decides. They're in the presence of a real life angel.)

They explain, with only a few difficulties and general comprehension failures, their band and what they want him for.

"Oh man, that sounds like fun," the boy chuckles. "I'm not gonna agree to anything, but— I'm definitely interested. When did you say your next practice was again?"

"Next Tuesday!" Hinata answers immediately. The boy winks.

"I may or may not be there."

Hinata beams.

"Well, I— I hope you are, uh—!"

"Suga," he finishes. "Yeah. I look forward to it."

.

 

That next Tuesday, Suga shows up like a blessing disguised in black button up felt and a yellow scarf. He blows on his hands to warm them, clicks his boots quietly on the ground to dust the snow off, then turns to the band with a grin Hinata is starting to recognize is signature for him.

"Where do I start?" he asks, to which Kenma quietly hands him a pile of lead sheets and Noya turns on his amp.

It's a quiet and cold Tuesday afternoon when Karusuno Junior & High School's infamous band, The Crows, takes flight.

.

 

The next few years are a flurry and a mess— they go to gigs, they play at parties, Hinata breaks his leg three times and Noya almost gets sent to prison. They're probably the best and scariest and messiest years of Hinata's life, and he wouldn't change them for the world. They turn Tanaka's older sister's garage into a recording studio (much to Tanaka's chagrin, as Saeko checks in on them quite often and embarrassing her younger brother could have been written on her résumé as a professional talent) and they make an album, but it's too small to just release and no record companies will take them. Locally, though, they're a legend; they play at every festival and event, and everybody in town thinks they just need to wait for their big break.

Suga graduates first, and goes off on a choir scholarship to a nearby community college to get a degree in vocal training (he did try to be a vocal coach for the other four in the band, but after a lot of wincing and hair-raising attempts he had to gently place his hands on their shoulders and remind them that they all had wonderful instrumental talents, so it was okay that there was no hope for their singing voices, right?)

They have to work around Suga's classes, but the school he attends is nearby and the number of gigs they can do only drops a little. They still practice and hang out and keep close knit as a group.

The next year is the worst for Hinata— Kenma, Tanaka, and Noya all graduate and leave him behind. Kenma goes far away to get a musical theory and composition degree at some prestigious art school. Tanaka doesn't even attempt college (Hinata doesn't really know what he's doing, ever, but he acted the same as usual, so Hinata figured he was doing okay.)  
Noya went to college for three whole days before he came running back with horror stories, muttering about insane professors and Russian roommates and fifty cent ramen. He eventually got a job selling bass guitars at a local music store, and spent his days working and harassing Hinata and his old teachers by crawling back to the school on his break pretty much every afternoon.

Hinata spends his days at school desperately wishing he was graduated—but hey, that's what he gets for being the youngest in the group.

It's a lot harder for them to hang out now. It's not that they drift, per se— because they don't, honestly. Even though they spend less time together, the time they do is just as easy and practiced and comfortable as it was before. It's just—fundamentally different, and Hinata spends the ends of their infrequent impromptu concerts feeling like a kid being thrown into an adult's world. He makes it through senior year by the skin of his teeth (not that his grades were ever good to begin with— but if he failed and had to repeat senior year _again_ , he's pretty sure someone would die.)

They did out of town gigs on the weekends, and skyped Kenma for new music, and sometimes Hinata just skipped school and went to a concert instead (Suga disapproved.) But senior year ends just as quietly and subdued as it had begun, and Hinata is glad to get out of there and get back with his crew once again. His graduation night is a flurry of laughing and partying and music— Tanaka wakes up naked in a dumpster and Noya wakes up in a jail cell (apparently, he stole sixteen cartons of eggs from the nearby gas station and inexplicably threw them all in the pool.)

It's great. Hinata feels great.

And three days later, he feels even better.

" _What?!_ " The Crows, in a rare moment of telepathic unity, scream.

"Yeah," Kenma says, voice tinny from over the speakers but still conveying the happiness and disbelief they're all feeling. "I got the call this morning. Nekoma Studios wants to make a record deal. They may want to publish your album."

"Oh my god," Suga gasps, "That's—incredible, w—"

"We're." Noya cuts him off loudly, eyes wide, brain short-circuiting. "We're gonna. Dude. We're gonna be—"

"-famous!" both Noya and Tanaka finish at the same time, turning toward each other with wide eyes before throwing themselves off of Suga's dorm bed and into the air. Tanaka makes a strangulated yodel noise and throws his shirt to the ground like a used dishrag.

"Ryu!" Noya practically sobs, "Ryu, girls are gonna ask us for our autograph."

"Holy shit. Noya. Noya can you imagine—"

"Aaaand shut up, the both of you," Suga says, rolling his eyes and giving them his "exasperated mom" look. He turns back to the laptop screen. "Kenma, when are we supposed to meet with Nekoma Studios?"

"This Thursday," Kenma says, sounding a little sheepish. "I know it's soon, but—"

"We'll be there!" Hinata bursts out, leaning forward like Kenma could see him better because of it. He feels jittery—this could be it, the big break they had been waiting for since forever. Suddenly the last year and the distance and all of the loneliness bullshit doesn't matter, because they're here right now, about to debut with a record company. Thursday, he thinks, can't come fast enough.

.

The thing about the world is that the world hates people. The world, in it's simplest form, is a piss-ass schemer with an affinity for irony and ruining Hinata Shouyou's life in particular. Which is why when Thursday comes, it's with screeching bad luck and a feeling like a four by four to the face.

He woke up late. Due to a conveniently timed power shortage at the shitcrack of dawn, all of Hinata's alarms decided to betray him and fall prey to death by electrical surge. When he finally crawls out the door and begins the two hour trek to Nekoma Studios, his car immediately breaks down at a gas station on the side of the highway. He ends up bumming a ride with a loud, demanding mother of three, in which he quickly realizes that both her and her children never learned how to _shut the fuck up_. Hinata is generally a friendly person and quick to engage in casual conversation, but after that car ride, he never wants to talk to strangers ever again.

This is followed by a questionably smelly bus trip to Nekoma Studios, where his band is giving him livid looks for causing their potential new manager to have a bad impression due to him being so hopelessly late. Then he realizes that he _forgot the album._ In his rush to get out the door, he left it laying on the kitchen table. If the Nekoma manager looked skeptical and pissed off before, it was twice as bad now.

They end up having to connect Tanaka's phone to the studio computer and search through his files for the songs (which is uncomfortable for everyone involved— there are some things saved on Tanaka's phone that Hinata _never_ wanted to see.)

And finally, to add insult to injury, when they actually manage to get the songs playing, their manager guy—well, he doesn't even look all that impressed. He sits there with his hands folded and eyebrows knitted and there's a long, uncomfortable silence.

"These recordings are years old," Suga says, sounding a little shaky and just as nervous as Hinata feels, "We can of course redo them—"

"Not just redo them," Manager Dude interrupts gruffly. "You're going to have to remaster them. And gain a team member."

".....What do you mean?"

"I've been meaning to ask you this since your last member came in, but— four people in a band is a small number. Do you not have a keyboard player, at least? Alternate singers? Other guitarists?"

"No," Hinata says slowly, eyebrows knotted in confusion, "it's just us."

And it always had been just them, and it had never stopped them from being successful.

Manager Dude sighs and stands up from his table.

"Your band is lacking something," he says curtly. "I personally believe that you really need a keyboardist in all of these songs. You four have talent— but that's not enough. As it is right now, I won't present you to the big dogs of our studios. I don't want my name on you. But—" He stands up and clacks a stack of papers on the desk. "If you can find a keyboardist and get together a song to present with them before the meeting, I'll gladly stand with you."

Suga sounds smaller than ever.  
"When's the meeting?" he asks quietly.

The manager levels his gaze.  
"Four days," he says.

 

 

"Four dayyyys, Kenmaa," Hinata whines into the phone that afternoon. They're sitting (well, moping) at a coffee shop next to the studios. "There's no way. It's impossible."

"It will be hard," Kenma admits. "But still, you shouldn't give up, Shouyou."

"OH, oi, Kenma," Noya says, as if suddenly remembering something. "Don't you go to a fancy-schmanchy music school? Aren't there keyboarders there?"

Kenma ponders this for a minute. "We do have a pretty good piano pedagogy program," Kenma admits, to which Tanaka quietly mutters _what the hell is a pedigoggly_.

"Well then we're fine!" Noya exclaims. "Just spread the word at campus and we'll spread the word here. We'll find a keyboard player, I guarantee." He pauses and huffs at them loudly. "You all should know that as long as you have me watching your backs, you'll be fine."

"Of course we will," Tanaka snorts decisively, be even he doesn't sound sure.

.

 

Elsewhere, Kageyama Tobio is dying.

"I'm...sorry sir, I don't understand," he grits out, trying his goddamm best to sound totally steady and not like every aspect of his life and future is very quickly spiraling out of his control.

His professor just gives him a pitiful, sheepish look. (Damn. He knows.)

"I'm not letting you into my class," Professor Takeda repeats, ensuring that Kageyama didn't hear him wrong the first time. "This is, as you know, an advanced program with special privileges. Your difficultly with working with others is.....um, concerning, and I don't think you're ready for this."

Right. His difficulty with working with others, which was clearly going to be such a problem in his budding career as a _solo pianist_.

Emphasis on the _solo_.

"Please reconsider."

Takeda shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says, "but the piano is largely an accompaniment instrument. Even if you aim to be a soloist, you have to be flexible to accompany as well. You have magnificent talent, Kageyama," he lets out a long sigh. "It really is a shame."

This absolutely cannot be happening. Years and years of practice and auditions to get into this school, years and years of parent and adults assuring him that _You're amazing! You'll totally make it!_ and now here he is, first year of college, getting kicked out (hell, he wasn't even ever let in) to the one program he had his heart set on from eight years old. He had the talent. Not to be cocky, but he fucking knew he did. So why—

"If I—" Kageyama stutters in a desperate attempt to reverse this moment. "If I prove that I _can_ easily accompany a group, will you let me in?"

His professor looks amused. He gives a little smile and shakes his head.

"If you can work with someone—and actually be a part of a group, with the other members valuing and liking you—then, yes, I'll let you in."

Kageyama bows quickly.

"Thank you sir, I won't let you down."

On his way out, he thinks he hears a quiet _we'll see._

.

It's desperation that makes him call the number. He had contacted every orchestra within a six hour drive, and all of them had already done auditions or weren't accepting new members. He went to singing bars, hell, he even went to a theatre and asked to be the pianist during the plays (they already had a small group with a talented musicians and didn't need him, sorry.)

The flyer appears outside his Music Composition class one day, sleek and shiny with large red letters reading !!URGENT!! on top. He peels it off the wall and stares at it for a really long time.

A band is not what he had in mind. Especially not a nasty rock band. But—he had to get into this program. There was a four day time limit on this flyer, and if he didn't call now, who knows when he would get a chance like this again?

He holds his phone in his hands and stares at the numbers for thirty minutes. When he finally dials, he's shaking like an idiot.

"Hello?" a soft voice picks up.

"Uh—hey—I heard you're looking for a pian...keyboardist?"

.

The keyboardist goes to Kenma's school. He's planning on driving down that day so that they have one day to collaborate before the day of the meeting. Hinata is on his toes all morning ( _What if he's a cannibal_ , he hisses at Noya, to which Noya gapes and they spend the next half hour coming up with multiple plans on how to take him down and get everyone out alive.)

He arrives at three o'clock. The first thing Hinata notices is that he's really fucking tall. However, when you spend life looking at the world at the magnificent height of 163 centimeters, even people who aren't that tall seem to be really fucking tall. So Hinata isn't too concerned by this.

The second thing he notices is that he's probably literally Satan.

( _Not a cannibal_ , Noya mutters in his ear, _but definitely part of a cult._ )

"Hello," Suga says warmly, and Hinata admires his courage.

"H-Hello." says Satan, looking anywhere but them.

There's a split, awkward second of silence before Suga saves the day again by saying, "Ah, well, let's start, right?" which unfortunately accidentally skips introductions, but Hinata isn't even sure he _wants_ to know this guy's name.

Satan sits down at the small keyboard they set up for him with a look of disdain, and practice kicks off to a shaky start.

.

Hinata is going to kill him.

"You," he growls out, "are the WORST keyboardist in the world! You're playing way too fast! Plus you're making everything all complicated! Just play what's written!"

"Hah?" snaps Asshole. "You're one to talk! Your playing is lousy and too simple! Can't you play any better than that?"

"I can," Hinata hisses, "but I'm not, because that's not what this song calls for. Maybe you could learn a little thing or two from me, stupid."

Asshole looks like there is literal smoke pouring out of his ears. Tanaka cuts them off just as he's opening his mouth to respond.

"Literally shut the fuck up," he snaps. "We don't have time for you two to scream like babies. The Nekoma meeting is _tomorrow_."

Hinata deflates. "Yeah," he mutters, and he kicks his effects pedal and turns away from the Worst Band Member in The World. "Let's go again, from the top."

He kind of feels like his dreams of a record deal are very quickly slipping away.

.

The next morning, Kageyama (introductions happened at the very end of rehearsal yesterday) brings them flowers.

"Dude," Noya says, "we're not your pissed off girlfriend or something."

Kageyama is redder than a lobster.

"I didn't know what else to do," he mutters. "I'm........sorry, for being. An asshole. I still, want to be, valued by you, uh, as a group member."

The words sound like a shitty script and seem at least 300% forced.

"...Thank you, Kageyama," Suga says, smiling. "Let's rock it today, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah."

Hinata gives Sugawara a weird look and he texts him under the table.

NEW MESSAGE  
FROM: Sugaaa 0:)  
TO: Me

> At least he's trying, haha.

FROM: Me  
TO: Sugaaa 0:)

> :^/

.

The meeting goes, unexpectedly, pretty fantastic. They meet their manager dude (Ukai, Hinata has gotta remember that) beforehand and play him the song they worked on at practice yesterday. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, the piano part does add a pretty big significance to the song, even if Kageyama's playing sounds stiff and uncomfortable today (he supposes it's better than the overbearing and warp speed playing of yesterday, though.) Ukai is pretty impressed with them, and when they go into the recording room with the big wigs watching them from behind the glass, Hinata feels extra pukey.

"Relax," Kageyama mutters beside him, and Hinata gives him a weird look.

"If the lead guitarist messes up you're going to ruin this for everyone," he says, sounding irritated. "So relax."

The words don't help (they actually kind of make it worse) but the fact that Kageyama would notice he was freaking out bother to try and calm him down makes him feel a little funny in his stomach.

"1...2...1, 2, 3, 4!" Tanaka beats on his drum sticks, and then they fucking _rock it_.

It's the best Hinata has heard them sound in a long time. Every chord, every beat, every note resounds in the room like magic and Hinata is flashed back to being fourteen years old-- playing at his six-year-old neighbor's birthday party and feeling the ecstasy of the music even though no one could appreciate it but him.

The last note rings out in the room, with Suga taking a deep breath, and Hinata feels indescribable. He looks around at his bandmates, and every one of them has a similar expression on their face, eyes wide and breathing heavy and all of them feeling tied together and interconnected in a way that can't be explained.

(The floppy feeling in his stomach comes back when he realizes that, when there's the edge of a smile on the corners of his lips, Kageyama actually looks really nice.)

.

"I've never felt that before," Kageyama admits, when they're packing up the rehearsal room that evening. Kageyama's getting ready to drive back to university for his classes the next day.

"Never felt what before? Happiness?"

"No," Kageyama snaps. "I meant like, that thing. I don't know. I've always played solo."

"Solo?" Hinata wrinkles his nose. "So you're like, a classical dude. A concert pianist."

"Don't say it like its a curse, asshole." He huffs. "It's much more admirable than _rock band_."

"Don't say _that_ like its a curse! Besides, if rock band's so terrible, why'd you _join one_ , stupid?"

Kageyama opens his mouth then slowly clicks it shut. He folds up the keyboard stand and shoves it into a box.

"No reason," he mutters, and it doesn't sound like the truth, but Hinata doesn't question it.

 

"You know," Suga says, standing outside Kageyama's car as they get ready to see him off, "I'm taking a semester off to save money. There's really nothing tying us here, so wouldn't it make sense to go and find places to stay near Kageyama and Kenma's university?"

"Holy shit, yeah," Hinata breathes, already feeling excited at the thought of being reunited face to face with Kenma again.

Kageyama looks a little disgruntled.

"It would be less driving for me," he admits, but he doesn't seem all that happy about the thought of being in more permanent, closer proximity to the band.

"Let's just look into it," Suga suggests, and they all nod collectively.

.

Hinata finds an apartment that will fit four people right next to the university. It's more than affordable if they split the price four ways.

NEW MESSAGE  
FROM: Kenma :^]  
TO: Me

> U four living in 1 apartment is going to be a disaster

FROM: Me  
TO: Kenma :^]

> u spelled "awesome" wrong ;^)

.

Living in an apartment with Suga, Noya, and Tanaka is an absolute disaster.

Suga ropes off his section of the flat with blue tape on the ground and assures them that if any of their stuff ends up cluttering his areas, he's going to end their life.

Tanaka leaves porn playing on the TV like, every goddamn day. Then he sneaks in three dogs, even though the apartment has a strict no pet policy, and Hinata has a severe allergic reaction and has to go to the hospital. (Tanaka doesn't even get rid of the dogs. He just builds a tiny pen in the alleyway behind the flat and keeps them there.)

Noya sets the bathtub on fire.

(He also sets the toaster on fire. And Hinata's pants. While he was wearing them.)

"Kenma. If you value my life at all, let me move in with you."

"Sorry, Shouyou," Kenma says with a small smile. "I live on campus, and there are strict roommate policies."

Hinata's head collides with the table with a small thud.

"I can't do this," he whines. "I can't go back there. And I can't afford an apartment on my own."

Kenma shrugs and takes a bite of their sandwich.

"I think Kageyama lives off campus," they say off-handedly, and the beginnings of a terrible, catastrophic idea begin whirring in his head.

 

"No way in hell," Kageyama hisses.

"Please," Hinata begs, "I'll get on my knees and buy all your groceries and clean the whole house."

"I live alone for a reason."

"Yeah, because you're a nasty, friendless grouch, I know."

Kageyama punches him in the shoulder.

"Ow," he mutters. "Come on, I'm dying here. If you don't take me in, I'm going to die."

"Clearly, if you're coming to me for help," Kageyama mutters.

"Hey! I actually thought we were pretty okay."

Kageyama had been practicing pretty much every day with them for about three weeks, and while he still had some difficulties staying on tempo, they had worked themselves into a kind of rhythm. Hinata actually looked forward to arguing with Kageyama every day—it was, in a weird way, kind of therapeutic.

(Plus, being around Kageyama was enjoyable because he used this cologne or something that smelled _really_ nice. Not that Hinata really paid that much attention, but, you know. It's pleasant.)

Hinata doesn't know if he would call them _friends_ , but being roommates with your friends doesn't always seem to work out, as Hinata has quickly discovered.

Kageyama looks embarrassed. (Kageyama looks embarrassed a lot.)

"Just, whatever," he mutters. "If you do, you're sleeping on the couch. And you're paying for all the food you eat, dumbass."

Hinata whoops and throws himself at Kageyama. (Kageyama dodges, but he gets even redder, and Hinata laughs.)

.

Extra practice just seems to sort of happen. Now that they're living together, it makes sense to practice together instead of separately. Hinata likes playing with Kageyama— it's a little weird to just have the instruments with no vocals from Suga, but it's also kind of raw, in a way, different from real practice with the band. Plus, Hinata and Kageyama always seem to be on the same wavelength— Kageyama can't always meld with the band, but since he's started playing with Hinata, everything just melds perfectly.

They also become way closer as friends when Hinata wasn't paying attention. Hinata gets a look at some of Kageyama's original compositions, they have an all out Mario Kart war every Saturday, and they watch shitty soap operas and horror movies together (the soap operas are _entirely_ Kageyama's fault. He insists he doesn't really like them that much, but he cried like a baby at the last season finale, and Hinata made fun of him for weeks.)

The band also gets really busy. Ukai calls with the good news that the higher-ups really liked their performance, and have approved for them to remaster their old album and release it. Every day is a long sequence of recording and tweaking and changing, and excitement laces every practice. They get their first gig since Kageyama joined, a small concert at a bar, and the night is loud and sweaty and electric. Kageyama looks torn between wonder and terror.

(Hinata briefly notices a small dude in glasses call Kageyama over to him after the concert. Kageyama comes back a little wide-eyed and shaky, and when Hinata asks him who it was, he just shrugs it off with "one of my professors". Hinata doesn't give it a second thought.)

And then Kageyama starts to act weird.

He leaves practices early, he mysteriously has to go to another class on Wednesdays that Hinata _knows_ he didn't have to go to before (Wednesdays were the days they went to the park and raced around the lake, and the loser had to buy the winner ice cream. Hinata misses it.) And then he starts spending time locked up in his room, like, all the time. Kageyama had never let Hinata in his room before either, as he said that his real acoustic piano was in there and _if you touch it, you die._ But Hinata didn't really care until Kageyama was suddenly locked up in there _all the time_.

After about four weeks, Hinata takes a hammer to the doorknob.

"What the fuck," Kageyama says.

He's sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of papers. It looks like a hasn't done his laundry in a month, and he's frustrated and angry and there are bags under his eyes. Hinata can't see all the papers, but most of them look like —sheet music. About half of them are all scribbled out.

"What."

"I should be asking you that," Kageyama grumbles. "You're paying for the doorknob, asshole."

"What are you doing," Hinata says, and the underlying _what have you been hiding from me_ goes unspoken.

Kageyama looks around and futilely searches for a way out of this-- but there's definitely no way to escape pissed off and confused Hinata with a hammer in his doorway.

"Sit down," he sighs, "I'll explain from the top."

Hinata plops down on a couple of papers.

"Uh. Have you heard of the Concerto Soloist program at this school? It's where, people who are really good at one instrument get put in this program to become solo maestros. They get to play at huge orchestra halls around the world and it's— completely awesome."

Hinata blinks with wide eyes.

"I didn't even know this school had something like that."

Kageyama nods. "Yeah. I've wanted to be a part of it since I saw a concert for this program at eight years old. It's really hard to get in." He pauses. "I was....rejected. Because I couldn't play well with others. I was never good at accompaniment. So we made an agreement— I join some kind of musician group and become a valued member, I get into the program."

Everything clicks at once.

"Our band.... that's why—"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"I don't know why I didn't tell you. I thought if you all thought I was only doing this for outside reasons, I wouldn't be a valued member of the band. But anyway, after our first gig— the head professor of the program came to watch. He said he was proud of me and— he let me into his class. I could have quit the band then, but we were just starting on the album, and I mean, I live with you, and—" he stops. "I don't know. This program is really tough. I'm trying to balance everything and I—"

"You're so completely stupid."

If looks could kill.

"I just poured my heart out to you and _that's_ what you give me?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone any of this?" Hinata whines. "Why do you insist on doing everything yourself? I'm here to help you, idiot."

Kageyama ducks his head, embarrassed.

"Shut up," he mutters, but there's no bite behind it. It's followed by a comfortable silence.

"Sooo," Hinata says, looking around. "You still haven't told me the reason for all the— papers."

"For my final, I have to write an ten minute composition to perform at Carnegie Hall," he says quietly. "It has to be _good_ , but I can't get it the way I want it."

"If these are all failed attempts, why don't you just throw them out and start over?"

"I don't know," Kageyama says, sounding more and more frustrated. "Having these is better than having nothing, right?"

Shouyou suddenly remembers being 6 years old and sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. His newborn sister was asleep in her room, and his mom was rifling through picture after picture in an album. He knew she was trying really hard not to let him see her cry, but quiet tears were slipping down her cheeks anyway, and Hinata didn't know what to do.

"Sometimes, Shouyou," his mother had said, running a finger down one of the pictures. It looked like her and his dad's wedding. "People make themselves sad because they have a hard time letting go."

She took one last look at the picture on the page and then threw the album in the trash.

Almost simultaneously, he remembers the wish tree at age sixteen. Thousands of scraps of papers, 3 billion stars and one _dream big._

He's moving before he can really register it.

He gathers all the scribbled out and half-compositions, walking around the room and picking them up.

"What are you doing?" Kageyama asks, squinting, and it makes the bags under his eyes look even darker.

_Sometimes people just have a hard time letting go._

Hinata walks to the kitchen and dumps the papers unceremoniously in a large tupperware container. (He vaguely notices the sound of Kageyama's footsteps following him.) He reaches in the drawers before he finds what he's looking for, a tiny box of matches clutched in his left hand, and walks over to the box of papers.

He lights the match. Kageyama's eyes widen.

"Hey, wai—"

"Dream big," Hinata says, and he drops it straight down.

.

He doesn't speak to Kageyama for four days. This is subsequently the same amount of time it takes for Kenma's dorm manager to notice he's been allegedly staying in the dorms and force him to go back home (which is really a shame, as both Kenma and Kenma's roommate, a punk dude named Kuro, are really chill. Kageyama is definitely not chill.)

He walks into the apartment and is met with awkward silence. Kageyama is sitting on the couch scribbling something on paper while the newest episode of his soap opera plays.

"Hey," Hinata says, tentatively.

"Hey," Kageyama answers. He doesn't say anything else.

Hinata quietly walks over and sits next to him.

"Are you mad?"

"...I was." Kageyama sighs and looks up. "But— somehow it got a lot easier to write when I couldn't try to reincorporate all my past work. So uh—thanks." He glares. "You still should have given me some warning or explained yourself, though, asshat."

Hinata grins. "It's all in a days work," he teases. "So, what, did you write something magical?"

"I guess," he grumbles, looking embarrassed. "You wanna hear?"

He follows Kageyama into his room (which doesn't at all feel weird and intimate, what do you mean) and plops on his bed while Kageyama sits down at the piano. He can see the title on the top of the composition— _dream big_ , it says— and Hinata feels a happy warmth run throughout his chest.

Hinata forgets, after being exposed to Kageyama from too many angles, that he's a piano prodigy. He's always, in Hinata's mind, Kageyama the dork, Kageyama the band member, Kageyama the kid who makes his eggs sunny side up and is way too serious about everything and sucks ass at Mario Kart.

He's a totally different Kageyama when he sits down at the piano.

The song is fast and haunting all at the same time, and it leaves Hinata with this weird feeling that's he's drowning but like, in a good way.

When the last note rings out, Hinata mourns that it's over.

"You really are incredible," he breathes, almost involuntarily, almost just to remind himself. Kageyama stiffens and whips around to look at him, and then they're really close, too close, and Hinata can smell Kageyama's weird cologne and see his dark eyelashes and feel his breath on his face and—

"I, uh— I'm beat! I'm going to bed, see you at band practice tomorrow," Hinata bursts, hating how shaky he sounds and quickly he threw all the words out. He stumbles back to Kageyama's door. "Um— g'night!"

(When Hinata curls up on the couch that night, he prays for his heart to stop pounding.)

.

The next big gig The Crows have is a New Years Party. Finals are over, Kageyama just flew back from New York after performing (when Hinata calls him right after he plays, he sounds lost and confused and totally _alive_ ) and everybody's letting loose. Hinata has had more than a few drinks, but he's not even close to drunk, even when things around him get a _liiiittle_ blurry. The band had just finished recording the last song for their album, and with everybody on high spirits, they rocked their song list. Tanaka's shirt has once again mysteriously disappeared and Noya is nowhere to be found (Hinata prays that Suga is keeping an eye on him, because they can't afford to pay bail again.)

He finds Kageyama out on the balcony, watching the fireworks.

"They're awesome, huh," Hinata starts, walking up next to him.

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him.

"You're drunk."

"Totally am nooot. Have you even drank anything? It's New Years! Live a little!"

Kageyama snorts and snaps the drink out of Hinata's hand.

"No, but I'll drink the rest of this for you, dumbass, before you hurt yourself."

"Ugh, come on, that was mine," Hinata mutters, but he's kind of focused on the fact that Kageyama's _lips_ are on the cup that _his lips_ were _just on_.

There's an especially loud firework and they both turn to look at it.

The fireworks are beautiful-- loud and colorful and swallowing the sky. They make Hinata feel smaller than usual, like he's just a little part of a big big picture, a tiny kid with a tiny band and a tiny crush on a tiny concert pianist of a roommate. But even in the way it makes him feel small, it still makes him feel better— sometimes, he thinks, it's less about living big and more about dreaming it.

He turns to Kageyama, who's looking all mismatched and colorful in the bright lights, tall and weird and Kageyama-ish next to him, and he thinks that there are a lot of strange coincidences that led them to meet each other-- and even though Kageyama is stupid and annoying and a mess, he wouldn't change it for the world.

"5.....! 4.....! 3.....! 2.....!"

"Happy New Year," Hinata says, and before he can regret it, he stands up on his tiptoes and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck was that ending that was terrible am i right
> 
> i wrote the beginning of this like two weeks ago and then wrote the rest of it now so if you noticed it getting rushed that's why lmao  
> this was gonna be a oneshot but then it got SO LONG so here's half of it hopefully there will be a part 2 :^) i dunno man
> 
> kagehina is so important to me and i've written like 266482 things since my last one but this is the first i've actually somewhat finished and idk how i feel about it so i hope you enjoyed it at least :0


End file.
